"How will you have it?" he asked; and it was the stranger at Mr. Galbraith's elbow who answered.
"One thousand in fives, tens, and twenties, loose, if you please; the remainder in the largest denominations, put up in a package."
The teller counted out the one thousand in small notes quickly; but he had to leave the cage and go to the vault for the huge remainder. This was the crucial moment of peril for the robber, and the president, stealing a glance at the face of his persecutor, saw the blue eyes blazing with excitement.
"It is your time to pray, Mr. Galbraith," said the spoiler in low tones. "If you have given your man the signal——"
But the signal had not been given. The teller was re-entering the cage with the bulky packet of money-paper.
"You needn't open it," said the young man at the president's elbow. "The bank's count is good enough for me." And when the window wicket had been unlatched and the money passed out, he stuffed the loose bills carelessly into his pocket, put the package containing the ninety-nine thousand dollars under his arm, nodded to the president, backed swiftly to the street door and vanished.
Then it was that Mr. Andrew Galbraith suddenly found speech, opening his thin lips and pouring forth a torrent of incoherence which presently got itself translated into a vengeful hue and cry; and New Orleans the unimpetuous had its sensation ready-made.